Of Guardians and Turtles
by Leofan221
Summary: First AU. "I...need you to take care of my sons, Fury." Splinter said, and was greeted by silence. "...Of course, Yoshi. but you know they'll have to be separated?" Fury asked. splinter knew. He hated it, but Oruko Saki had found Splinter. "Yes. Just...make sure they meet each other, when the time is right." One last, desperate request.
1. They need to be separated Understand?

**THIS IS THE BRAIN CHILD OF ME AND MY FRIEND, HARDYGAL. BEFORE YOU ASK, SHE DOESN'T HAVE A PROFILE HERE, BUT THAT'S WHAT SHE HAS REQUESTED THAT SHE BE KNOWN AS ON THIS SITE. ANYWAY, THIS IS MY FIRST AU, SO PLEASE BE GENTLE. THIS BUNNY IS HARDYGAL'S, AND I TOTALLY DIG THIS IDEA! PLEASE EXCUSE THE LINES. NOT SURE HOW TO GET RID OF THEM ONCE THEY'VE STARTED POPPING UP. ANYWAY, R&R! NO FLAMERS ALLOWED!**

**~LEOFAN221**

Splinter reached hesitantly reached for his phone, hating himself for what he had to do now. But, there was no other way. It had to be done. He loved his sons too much to keep them with him, where they would surely be destroyed much sooner than Splinter would allow. And so, here he was, calling in one last favor from an old friend, even after he had been mutated. Nicholas Fury's contact information appeared on the screen, and Splinter pressed talk. After four rings, the man picked up.

"_Hello, Fury here?"_

"Hello, old friend. Listen, I-" He was cut off as Fury recognized who was calling him at this ungodly hour of four-thirty in the morning.

_Yoshi?! Is that you?!" _

"Yes. Now, I have a large favor to ask of you." He says, not able to keep the heavyness out of his voice.

"_What kind of large favor, Yoshi?" _Fury asks, understandably wary. Splinter would be, too, if an old friend called him in the wee hours of the morning, and asked a large favor.

"An old enemy of mine has discovered my whereabouts, much sooner than I could have anticipated. And I know you don't normally do this...but...would you watch over my sons? I can't bear to lose them. No matter what happens to me, they must live on. Please, Fury. I have no other options." A gasp from the other end. Again, understandable. Splinter could just see Fury rubbing the bridge of his nose as he sat, maybe at a table, maybe in bed. It wasn't possible to tell.

"_Of course, Yoshi. But you do realize that I could send a team in after this man, take care of him for you. or...I could that team to your location, for protection." _despite everything happening, everything that's about to happen, Splinter smiles. He had know Fury would put out that request, but those words fell upon deaf ears. He had considered, and no. splinter didn't need anyone to protect him, or fight his battles for him. So, as politely as possible, he declines Fury's kind offer.

"_You sure, Yoshi?"_

"Yes, I'm sure. Thanks for the generous offer, though." Splinter responds, still smiling. It drops, however, when he has to ask where he should drop off his kids.

"_Oh, the apartment building on First and Fourth will be fine. I have agents in New York City. I'll give them a call, and have them pick them up. I appreciate the sacrifice you are making. One more thing; they'll need to be separated. Do you understand?" _Of course he understood. For their safety, they wouldn't know each other until the time was right. It was the only way...

"Yes. Just, make sure that they find each other, when the time is right. Please." He asked. Final request. It was the best he could do for them now.

"_Until we met again, then, Yoshi." _Fury said. Splinter chocked back sobs, blinked back tears, and wiped his face before responding.

"Until we meet again, Fury." Without another word, the call was terminated. Quickly securing the amulets he had prepared with their names on them, in the colors that Yoshi thought suited each of them, around their tiny necks, he hugged them close for a few moments before picking up Leonardo and Raphael and placing them on his shoulders. Donatello and Michelangelo went on his hips. He left the Lair, and walked through the sewer system, wanting to make the most of his limited time left with them as he walked unhurriedly. He only emerged to cross the street when he arrived at the right place for the drop off. He was here in time to meet Fury's agent at the designated spot. He brought his sons down from his shoulders, and hugged them to him for the last time, tears running down his face. The children were sleepy, and it took only a few lullabies to get their eyes to droop, and finally, close in sleep. Splinter reluctantly broke free of the contact, and rose to shaky knees, to unsteady legs. His hand slowly reached into his hakama, and drew out the note, reviewing it swiftly before placing it in between two of his sons.

_To whom it may concern,_

_Please do not be alarmed by my sons' appearance. They are very kind and gentle souls. Please care for them as best you can, if Fury decided to pair you with one or more of them. I know you wouldn't normally do something like this, and I cannot express my gratitude for your possible assistance in this matter enough to justify my feelings. I think that it would be wise to train them in the warrior's way. However, I will leave the decision up to Fury. I know you will help my sons become good and honest boys, and, hopefully, men one day, if fate throws one of my sons your way. _

_Hamato Splinter._

Satisfied, he hesitantly reachedfor the door. With a swift, yet firm knock, and he was gone, back to the tunnels he knew so well, after watching his sons being drawn into the apartment building by gloved hands. His heart broke as he heard the soft moaning that came from each of his sons as they were drawn into the dark home. He was so distracted with thoughts of his sons, and what would happen to them, that he never noticed the dark suited man, creeping along beside him, a leg out and reaching for him, until he tripped and fell to the floor. Ending the fall in a roll, he saw the shadowy figure.

"Where are the Kame, rat?" he hissed, voice deep, and laden with menace. Splinter smiled.

"Do you honestly think that I will tell you anything?"

"No. just checking." The man replied, and Splinter suddenly felt a sharp pain in-between his shoulder blades. He collapsed to the floor, the life already nearly depleted from his body. Through the red mist of death, Splinter saw his murderer step from the shadows, and activate a communicator on his wrist. However, Splinter was dead before he could hear what was said.

"The rat has been taken care of, master." He said, sounding genuinely pleased with himself.

"_And what of _ _the Kame?" _An equally sinister and evil voice came from the other end of the line.

"Unknown as yet, master. The rat wouldn't tell me anything."

"_Well, no matter. They won't last long without someone to take care of them, anyway." _The second man replies, sounding genuinely amused at the presumed fate of the four turtle mutants. He wouldn't be seeing them for fifteen years.

Natasha Romanov wasn't expecting to find four baby turtles outside the drop point. She had quickly drawn them inside, two at a time, before anyone saw anything. She smiled despite herself as she looked at them, all asleep. A few of them were sucking their thumb, and they all snuggled against her chest. She blushed slightly, not used to having something, or someone, show affection to her. Her phone vibrated in her pocket, and she sent it to her head set, so she could still hold the four little terrapins and talk to whoever was calling. "Yes?" She said. Her usual response when she picked up.

"_Fury wants a status report on the pickup, Agent Romanov." _Agent Phil Coulson replied, not sounding annoyed, which meant he was.

"Pickup successful, Coulson." She said, not one to mince words.

"_Good. Bring them in, please. We need to get to work on dispersal." _Natasha rolled her eyes. Count on Coulson to treat the fate of four little guys like just a regular drop-off of packages.

"Glad to see you are so concerned about these four little...guys." Natasha said, not wanting to spoil the surprise. Not yet.

"_Um-hm. Just return to base, and we'll figure it out from there." _with that, Coulson hung up. Natasha ended the call on her end, too, and tried to get off the couch without waking the four little guys on her lap. One by one, she laid them out on the couch. None of them woke up, thankfully. She found a box big enough to transport the four little guys out to the car, at least. Carefully laying them inside before bracing herself, she picked it up.

Coulson didn't exactly approve of taking in four more little kids, much less having to raise them. He patiently waited for Natasha to arrive with the sons of Fury's friend. Just because he was going along with it doesn't mean he had to like it. After about fifteen minutes, a car pulled into the base, and Natasha Romanov emerged from the vehicle. Going to the second door, she opened it, reached in, and drew out a cardboard box. Coulson could hear her grunt in exertion as she came closer. Coulson motioned for an agent to assist Natasha, but she merely held onto the box tighter. She walked inside, and dumped the box as gently as possible onto the couch. She then stretched her sore arms, and sat down next to the box. Coulson came over and stood next to Natasha. "Rough time?" He asked, smirking. Romanov sent him a death glare before speaking through her pants. "You don't know the half of it." She growled. "You have no idea how heavy these guys are." She said, motioning toward the box. Coulson moved closer to it, and reached out to open it

"Just to warn you, they're not normal." Natasha said, now over her pants. Coulson raised an eyebrow, but didn't make any further comment as he eased the blankets surrounding the four bodies back. His breath caught at the sight that beheld him.

"Are you sure these are the right...kids?" Coulson asked, momentarily losing his composure.

"Yep. They were at the right place, right time. Those are Hamato Yoshi's sons." Romanov said, eyes closed as she relaxed on the couch. She handed him a note, and Coulson quickly read it before looking in the box. Coulson smiled that small trademark smile of his as he gazed down at their sleeping forms. They were all wearing amulets of a different color. One blue, one red, one purple, and one orange. Blue seemed to be trying to envelope all if his brothers in his arms, and Orange was apparently returning the embrace. Purple and Red were sucking their thumbs. It was adorable. Coulson wished his phone had a camera. This was a great photo op. He found himself wanting to hold them. Before he could guess why or what he was doing, he silently and carefully scooped up the one wearing the orange amulet. He was the smallest of the four turtles, and Coulson shook his head at himself and chuckled as he rocked the little thing back and forth smoothly. He seemed so happy in Coulson's arms, probably because Orange thought that Coulson was his father, Hamato Yoshi, and Heaven known where that guy was. Coulson smiled as the little guy cooed softly in his sleep. Idly, Coulson checked the flip-side of the small amulet. The word Michelangelo was carved carefully into the wood. He leaned over, careful not to disturb anyone, and checked all the amulets on a hunch. Raphael was under the red amulet, purple was Donatello, and blue Leonardo. So, now the four had names. All they needed was caretakers/parents. Secretly, of course. Fury would probably charge the Avengers with these little guys. But that wouldn't stop Coulson from putting in a request to at least be close to this little one. Michelangelo, like the Renaissance artist. Come to think of it, all the names were after Renaissance artists. Funny, that was a bit of an odd theme to pick. But who was Phil Coulson to judge Yoshi on what he named his sons? He wondered of Yoshi had named them that night, when he had carved the names into the amulets. No, he decided. It had required too much thought to have been done on the spur of the moment. He motioned an agent over to follow him with the box after carefully putting Michelangelo back into the box.

He tapped on the door to Fury's office not three minutes later.

"Enter." Came Director Fury's voice from the other side of the door. Coulson entered, followed closely by the agent carrying the box containing the turtles.

"We got them, sir. Agent Romanov picked them up at the drop off point without a hitch." Coulson reported as he entered, leaving the other agent to put the box down and awkwardly back out of the room. Fury came out from behind his desk.

"Good. Wait...why are they in a box?" Fury asked, lifting the lid. He straightened after a few seconds; his version of looking startled. Coulson handed him the note, and he quickly read it. Fury nodded when he was done reading. "Good. Now, we've gotta lotta work to do."


	2. The Drop off: Part I

**WHOO-WHOOO! SECOND CHAPPIE! THIS IS A LOT OF FUN TO WRITE, AND I HOPE YOU HAD A LOT OF FUN READING THE PROLOGUE. THE NEXT ONE PROBABLY WILL BE ABOUT THIS LENGTH, BUT THEN IT SHOULD LENGTHEN OUT A LITTLE. WE'LL SEE HOW IT GOES. ANYWAY, YOU KNOW THE DRILL. R&R, AND REVIEWS ARE LIKE OXYGEN. EXCEPT FLAMERS. THEY BURN ME SO BAD, I CAN'T TYPE NO MORE...XD. **

**~LEOFAN221**

Steve Rogers, AKA Captain America, wasn't expecting a knock at his door at seven in the morning, to start the list of things he didn't expect today. Second, he didn't expect his S.O, Director Fury, to be standing in the doorway, in the middle of the thunderstorm. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, since he had just woken up, he opened the door more, he invited Fury inside.

"To what do I owe this...honor, Director?" He asked, as Fury stepped inside, clutching something big inside his coat. Fury's coat was zipped up all the way, so Steve couldn't see what it was.

"Thanks. Nasty weather this morning."

"Yeah...um, what brings you here, Fury? New assignment?"

"In a way, Captain." Fury said, moving over to the couch and unzipping his coat. He had his back to Rogers, so he still couldn't see what was inside.

"What kind of assignment?"

"Come over here, and see." Fury replied, now leaning over the front of the couch, then standing up again. Steve hesitantly stepped closer to his couch, looking over Fury's shoulder with a secret curiosity. Steve gasped at what he saw there, sleeping on his couch, fidgeting fitfully. It was a humanoid young turtle, no older than two, wearing a blue amulet.

"How is that my assignment?" Steve asked, gesturing toward the child on the couch.

"He doesn't have a father. I was kinda hoping that you would fill in the position for my friend, Yoshi."

"Who's Yoshi?" Rogers asked, eyebrow raised questioningly.

"An old buddy of mine, and this guy's father. Presumed dead." Fury replied.

"What led you to that presumption?" Steve asked, squatting down next to Fury, eyes never leaving the turtle child.

"He called me at four thirty, asking for a favor. Needed me to take care of his son." Fury said, not wanting Steve to worry about all four. "Told me that 'one of his enemies' had resurfaced. He was desperate to keep them alive, no matter what happened to him. He even refused a protection squad. I arranged a drop-off with one of my agents, and they brought him in." Fury said, face showing no hint that he was lying. Steve looked pensive.

"Why me? Why not one of your agents?"

"Yoshi asked that he be trained to fight, and you're the best fighter I know. And the most honorable. I believe Yoshi would want his boy to be raised honorably, and well. You up for the challenge, Captain?"

"Heck yes, Director!" Steve replied, now holding the boy he would call his son.

"One more thing; keep him a secret, no matter what, until further notice." he said as he left the small apartment.

"You got it, Fury." Steve replied, but Fury was already gone. Steve looked at Leonardo, who was looking around curiously.

"Leo-bo!" The child suddenly cried, giggling and reaching for Steve's face.

"What the heck! You can talk! Wait...Who is that?" Steve asked.

"Leo-bo!" The child repeated, pointing at himself. He resumed looking around the apartment, rubbing his eyes sleepily. He looked at Steve, eyes filled with curiosity.

"Daddy, where Raphie-bo?" Steve started at being called 'Daddy,' but quickly regained his composure.

"Who's Raphie-bo?" He asked the child, but received no response. The child had already fallen asleep.

"You want me to do WHAT?!" Tony yelled at the calm Phil Coulson, standing in the lab inside Stark Tower. The turtle that Coulson had 'asked' Tony to be caretaker of was playing with the high tech tools and equipment as if they were mere children's toys. He cooed happily as he teethed on the handle to a screwdriver.

"Raise Donatello here." Coulson repeated calmly.

"Uh-uh! No way! There is no room for a kid here!" Tony protested to deaf ears. Coulson was resolute.

"Then what about Malibu? Nice big house, plenty of extra space-"

"Taken up by Pepper, Coulson! She'll freak out if she sees him, and you know that!"

"Maybe, but think about it this way. If you don't watch him, he'll die." Coulson said, bringing up cold facts to make a case. Tony smirked and wagged his finger reprovingly at the agent.

"I think I'd know when I'm being guilt tripped. No way, Hosea, ever."

"I'm not guilt tripping you, Tony. Merely pointing out facts. Donatello's father is most likely dead, so he has no one to care for him." Coulson stated. Tony blinked.

"How can you be so sure?" He asked, trying not to appear like his armor was cracking. Falling apart, actually.

"His name is, or was, Hamato Yoshi, a Japanese immigrant. Old Friend of Director Fury's. Last night, he called in a favor. He asked that we care for his son here, because an enemy of his has resurfaced faster than Yoshi could have predicted. Hasn't been heard of since he dropped off Donatello at a inauspicious location." Coulson said, voice even, as if giving a report. Tony's arms crossed, putting up a 'tough guy' attitude.

"I am not a masochist, Coulson. I will not take on a kid, ever. Unless it's mine!"

"Tony..."Coulson sighed, not sure exactly how to respond to that. Tony rolled his eyes.

"I don't know why you are still trying to get me to play daddy to him. I'm not gonna do it." he says, pointing a thumb in Donatello's general direction.

"Because he needs a father in his life, to replace the one he lost." Coulson states. A simple, undeniable, irrefutable fact. One that inwardly shattered Tony's resolve to not go through with this.

"Yeah, maybe, but how do you know that I'm the right guy for the job?"

"Well, he shows signs of intelligence, even at this early age, and we think that you would be perfect to help nurture that intelligence. We need you to do this Tony, as well as keep him a secret, for his safety, and yours." Coulson said, watching as Donatello pulled on a lab-coat, causing himself to get tangled up in it. He struggled with the large-at least to him-piece of fabric. Tony rolled his eyes and smiled as he went over and helped get the little guy out of the coat. Coulson smirked as he turned silently and stalked out of the tower.

Tony picked the turtle up, and turned to verbally acknowledge his defeat at the hands of a child's infamous giggle and innocence. Only to find that Coulson was no longer there.

"Foul play, Coulson! Foul Play!" he called, but Coulson didn't hear him. He turned back to the new 'son' in his arms.

"Well, since you're evidently doing to stay here, you need a nickname. Rest assured that if you get in trouble, I'll still call you by your full name. Let's see...how about...Donnie?" he asked, holding the child out at arms reach. The child squirmed and giggled like...well, like a child.

"D-Donnie-bo!" he cried, taking Tony aback.

"What did you just say?" He asked.

"Donnie-bo!" the child repeated, still giggling helplessly.

"And who am I?" Tony asked, knowing what he would probably say.

"You daddy!" Donnie said, suddenly looking around.

"Where Mikey-bo?" He asked, looking back at Tony.

"Who?" Tony asked, having to sit down.

_This kid really is intelligent. Heh. I like him already. That doesn't make this any weirder, though. _

"Who is Mikey-bo?" He repeated, receiving no response. The child was back to playing with the lab coat.

Coulson, now driving toward HQ, pulled his phone out and dialed a number. It rang for a moment, before Director Fury's voice filled Phil's ear.

"_Tell me you got him to do it." _He said, not wanting to have to take no for an answer.

"Oh, no. I got him to do it, Director. Walked out when he was distracted." Coulson reported, smirk as small as ever. Not betraying the genuine amusement he felt at Tony's face when he saw that Phil had just walked out of there. Well, what he imagined his face would look like.

"_Two more to go, then. Raphael and Michelangelo." _Fury noted. That was the signal that this conversation was over.

"Yes, sir. Be there as soon as possible." Coulson said, voice still even and calm. He ended the call, and returned the phone to it's rightful place in his jacket, and turned his attention back to driving.


	3. The Drop off: Part II

**UM, SORRY FOR NOT UPDATING SOONER. I GOT MY COMPUTER IMPOUNDED. ANYWAY, ENJOY! **

**~LEOFAN221**

"Let me get this straight...you 'need' me to 'watch over' a kid with anger issues? With the...other guy still around? You really didn't think this through, did you?" Bruce Banner asked, shaking his head incredulously at the 'request' brought before him. He had been asked by Agent Coulson to take care of a turtle kid wearing a red amulet. The calm male agent smiled and tilted his head, amused.

"Well, Fury did. He needs you on this, Bruce." He said, holding the child. Raphael was asleep, snuggled against her chest. It was a small apartment, here in California. But it had everything Banner needed. He rubbed the bridge of his nose, still trying to process the idea of him caring for a kid who, also, had anger management problems.

"Why me? The...other guy will kill him when he gets older. You know that, right?" He asked, eyes still closed, hands still squeezing his nose. Coulson sighed and slightly shifted the child in his arms. Bruce sighed, and, finally, motioned for the agent to put the child down on the couch. Phil did, trying not to look so relieved to have finally been able to put Raph down.

"So...does this mean you'll do it?" He asked.

"It means I'd like to, if you'll answer some of my questions." Bruce retorted.

"Like what?" Phil asked, leaning against a pole.

"Like what is his name? I can't just keep calling him 'it', 'kid', or 'him' all his life."

"His name is Raphael, and we have reason to believe that his father is dead, so we need you to fill in that position." Coulson said.

"Why me? I mean, this kid, according to you, has anger issues. And I have...larger anger issues." Bruce told him, tilting his head slightly when he mentioned his other, more violent side. Phil Coulson smirked. "Well, you HAVE learned to moderate your anger. We thought that you would be able to help Raphael with his anger. Please, Bruce. We need you to do this." The agent said. Finally, he took a step forward, and shook the middle aged man's proffered hand.

"*sigh* I'll do it, of course." He said, shrugging slightly, as if that had been his decision all along, and was just now revealing it. Coulson smiled as she turned to go.

"Well, that concludes my business here, I guess. So, I'll be ob my way." He said.

"Yeah. Until then, sir." Bruce replied, turning. But Phil had already left. He pulled out his phone, dialed a number.

"_Well?" _Fury asked from the other side of the line.

"He'll do it."

"_Good. And I already know who is gonna look after Michelangelo." _

Agent Romanov walked warily into Fury's office. He was leaning against the desk, relaxed, calm posture annoying the crap out of the confused agent. She stood at attention, and waited for Fury to speak, as she had learned to do a long time ago.

"At ease, soldier." She responded immediately. "You have been instrumental in finding good homes for Yoshi's kids." A statement. Not a question, order, request. Just a plain observation.

"Yes, sir." She replied, knowing it wasn't a question, but having learned the right response over the years.

"Now, I know you'd never normally do this, but I need you, and Barton to watch Michelangelo." Natasha was dumbfounded. Fury expected her and Barton to raise a child, together?! She licked her lips, blinked a few times, and nodded slightly, acknowledging that she had heard him.

"Sir, if I may, why us? What makes us so different from the other agents?"

"Well, Yoshi told me a lot about his sons in his spare time. Leonardo is a natural leader. Raphael is a born warrior. Donatello is an extraordinary scientist. And Michelangelo is a gifted joker. I think you two would be a good influence on him as he grows up. You think Clint is up to it?" Romanov smiled.

"Yes. I do think that he would enjoy raising a child."

"With you." Fury commented, smirking devilishly. (A.N/ NO, he does NOT mean that as, like, a biological thing, or anything like that.) Natasha blushed, not quite sure how to respond to that, and looked down at the floor. Fury nodded toward the door, excusing the embarrassed agent.

Natasha exited the small-ish office, to find Clint anxiously waiting outside, holding their new son.

"Hey, Nat. how'd it go?" Natasha smiled and took Mikey.

"Great, actually. We are parents to this guy now." She said, causing Clint to fist pump the air.

"Yes! That's great...wait, together? You and me? I thought we were giving them to single people?"

"Yeah, normally, but this one has certain eccentricities. He needs special attention. Fury thinks we're the best match for Michelangelo here."

"Well, um, the thing is, I was thinking about calling him Mikey, cus Michelangelo is, like, five syllables long. So I wanted to give him a nickname."

"Aww...that's cute, Clint. Mikey, I like it." Nat said, tickling Mikey lightly. He squirmed, trying in vain to get free from Romanov's handling, but she wasn't through with him. After a moment, she stopped, and walked to her apartment.

"Oyasumi, Weo." Mikey called, rubbing his eyes tiredly.

"Honey, who's 'Weo'?" Clint asked, but the child was already asleep.

"Goodnight, Clint." She called, as he turned to head to his own bed.

"Night, Nat. See ya tomorrow." He responded, sounding troubled, even to him, as to who Weo could be.

Location: Secret Base, in NYC

Bishop flopped the file into Karai's hand, and waited for her to deliver it to the Shredder.

"I think you'll find all relevant information included in that file." He said, usual monotone in his voice. The armored man on the throne read it briefly, before handing it back to Karai.

"Good work, Bishop. And you don't know where the turtles are?" Oroku Saki asked, deep voice growling. Bishop adjusted his glasses, and cleared his throat before answering.

"No, Saki. But they can't survive for long without attention, anyway." He said, shrugging casually.

"Bishop!" Saki barked, standing, but seemed to think about it. "You raise a valid point. Now, continue monitoring for any sign of my enemies, of more than those four pathetic turtle creatures. Any sign of the Hamato clan rising again, and report it to me. Do not fail me, Bishop." Bishop dipped his head slightly, before walking out of the room.

**THERE YA ARE! THIS IS KINDA SHORT, I KNOW, BUT IT'S STILL KINDA SETTING IT UP. UPDATE ASAP, PROMISE!**


	4. Truth be told--Dreaming of someone

**THIS CHAPTER(AND THE NEXT FEW ONES) ARE THE FINAL 'SETUP' CHAPTERS, PROMISE. IT'S JUST, ME AND HARDYGAL WANT TO EXPLORE THE GUYS GROWING UP WITH THEIR GUARDIANS. ANYWAY, **

**LOVE LONG AND LOVE TMNT! BOOYAKASHA!**

**~LEOFAN221**

Clint Barton walked warily into the meeting room, cautious as to the mysterious summons. He found Natasha, Steve, and Tony already in there, seated at the table. Steve looked mildly confused, Tony looked impatient as well as impassive, while Natasha looked resigned. Fury was at the head of the table, and Clint took his seat, nodding politely to all as he did so.

"Where's Bruce?" he asked.

"Not here yet," said Fury. "Now, you're all here because I wanted to bring a few things to light. First off..." Fury trailed off as Bruce came walking into the room. The man took a seat, and looked sheepishly at everyone.

Fury looked a little annoyed at having been interrupted, but cleared his throat without saying anything. "This is a call, placed at around four thirty the night before last," Nick said, and the screens in front of the chairs brought up a recording, which started playing immediately.

When it was done, everyone stared blankly ahead, all aside from Romanov, who looked as if this has confirmed a few things for her. Typical.

Nick was playing need-to-know with them, and it was their turn to know. Then, the screens showed a picture of Nick, with a Japanese man standing near him, in army greens. The man was at attention, looking almost mad. There was a woman, too, in the background, swollen stomach evident as she was trying to bend down to do something near the floor.

"The Japanese man is my friend, Hamato Yoshi," said Fury. "This picture was taken five years ago, shortly after we met. And this…" The screens simultaneously displayed another picture, this time of a humanoid rat, running through an alley in a maroon kamino. He was oblivious to the fact that his picture was just taken, as he struggled with an obviously overly stuffed backpack. "This was taken two months ago, by one of our hidden cameras," Fury informed, and then the screens flashed a slightly blurry picture of four mutant turtles, lying amidst a nest of blankets and pillows.

Raph and Don, as Bruce Banner and Tony Stark now knew, were sucking their thumbs as they slept. Blue and Orange, or Leo and Mikey, as Steve, and Natasha and Clint knew them, respectively. Blue light from a TV nearby was bathing the quartet, but the four were undisturbed by it. The scene was the cutest thing the group had ever seen, by far, but soon everyone was standing, except Natasha, and demanding explanations from the eye patched man at the head of the table.

Fury motioned for them all to return to their seats. When they had all done so, and only then, did he speak.

"Yes, there are four turtles total, not only one. We felt it necessary to keep the other three off your mind, and away from potential enemies."

Steve Rogers scoffed. "What 'potential enemies,' Fury? Who would even know about the turtles?" he asked, arms crossed as he slumped back in his chair.

Fury sighed. "Well, before Yoshi ended the call, he told me that one of his enemies had found him far faster than he could have anticipated, as he put it. He asked me to arrange for his sons to be protected, no matter what happened to him. I told Natasha to pick them up. Then, she and Coulson volunteered to help disperse Splinter's sons. You all know the rest." Fury concluded, weight shifted forward, hands on the back of the chair now. A clear sign that this conversation was over and done with

Everyone seated around the table now sat back in their chairs, glad to finally know what their charges were talking about. Everyone left then, the meeting over. Tony especially hurried. He had left Donatello in JARVIS' care, and that little devil was already way too smart for his own good.

The parking job was sloppy at best, but Tony was in a huge hurry. He scrambled out of the car, into the elevator, and pressed the lobby floor button repeatedly, hoping that that would make it go faster. He came out of the confined area to find Pepper Pots, his girlfriend-soon to be Fiance-on the ground, reading with Donatello. Doctor Suess' ABCs, by the sound of it. He walked, slack-jawed, into the room.

"How-...When-...wuh?" He stammered, completely dumbfounded. Pepper laughed, and stood, holding Donnie.

"Well, I arrived about ten minutes ago, found JARVIS trying to entertain this little guy, and figured I'd give it a shot. He freaked the crap outta me when I first saw him, which made him cry. And you know how susceptible I am to a baby crying." She said, all the while walking over.

"Mmm." Tony agreed, nodding. "Well, this is kinda awkward, and I meant to tell you before you had to stumble upon him, but got hung up at a meeting with Fury. Honey, you are not gonna believe this." He said, hands grasping Pepper's shoulders. And he told her everything, because...why not? If she was going to help him raise this child, Pepper would need to know everything.

"Wow. That's a lot to take in." Pepper breathed.

"Yeah, I know. So, you up for it?" Tony asked.

"Do I have a choice, now that I've seen him?" Pepper replied. Tony sighed.

"Not really, but I knew you would, cus you love kids," Tony was going to leave it there, but the look Pepper gave him said he'd better not. "if I'm not mistaken." He added quickly. Pepper opened her mouth to reply, when Donnie yawned.

"Looks like somebody needs to go to bed." Pepper chuckled, and carried him upstairs, to one of the spare bedrooms. It was really close to the Master Bedroom, so if anything went wrong, they could be in the room in three seconds, flat.

Leonardo was five years old, and yet scared out of his wits by his nightmares. It was always the same. He was running through a tunnel, as his dad had called it, something pursuing the helpless child. Then, he tripped and fell. He felt searing pain in his ankle, and then, right before the thing grabbed him, he woke up, being left with a whisper as he came back to.

"Leonardo...wait, my son. I love you..." the figure always said, reaching for the small turtle.

The poor boy was confused. Why did that strange thing come after him, wanting to get him, but telling the turtle he loved Leo, calling him his son? PaPa would know, surely. After all, he knew everything. Leo walked out of his small room, and to his dad's door. He carefully opened the door, not making a sound. He crawled into the bed with his father. Steve Rogers started, but soon settled down again.

"What's wrong, Leo?" he asked sleepily. The tiny turtle was shaking, small tears streaming down his face. Steve noticed, and sat up a bit more, frowning at his surrogate son with concern.

"Did that nightmare come back?" he asked, and Leo nodded slightly through his tears.

Poor guy had been having this nightmare for a few months now, intermittently. The young man had been woken up every other night by his son's crawling into his bed. Leo shifted, then laid still. Steve knew his son was too honest to lie, so when he did, it was really obvious. There was something about the dream that Leonardo wasn't telling the human.

"Leo? What is it? What's wrong?" Leo started a little, then turned into his back, face to his dad.

"PaPa, the ding in my dweam, it talks to me, evewy time. It tells me to wait, that he woves me. Why?"

Steve then knew exactly what his 'son' was dreaming about. His real father; Hamato Yoshi. But Steve had decided not to to tell Leonardo about his true father until he was older. He simply wouldn't understand. He didn't even quite understand why he wasn't allowed to leave the apartment. So, Steve had told Leo not to worry, that the thing couldn't get to him originally. But now, it would get a little more complicated.

"Uh, not sure," Steve said awkwardly. "He might be mistaking you for someone else, just as special as you are," he added with a yawn.

Leo seemed to think about it, then nodded. The blue eyes dulled a little as tiredness caught up to the young turtle, and he went back to his side.

"Oyasumi, PaPa," Leo called, using a language he could only vaguely remember being taught, as his eyes finally closed and he slipped into a deep sleep.

Five year old Donatello was puzzled. Every night for three weeks, he'd had the same dream. Most people would have said that that most likely meant that the dream was important, but Donatello didn't really process things in that way.

A kind, rat like, face, sadly smiling down at him and three other turtles, as he sang lullabies to them. Then, when the rat stood, he put a paper between Donnie and a turtle with sapphire eyes and emerald green skin. The rat leaned in and kissed each of the turtle's on the forehead.

"Goodbye, my sons. May you be happy, someday, together." He whispered so softly, Donnie almost didn't hear. Then, he knocked on a door, and vanished, just like that, back to the shadows. Donnie didn't know why, but the feeling of abandonment was heavy.

Then, a door opened, and two by two, the three other turtle tots and Donatello were drawn into a dark room.

Then, when Donnie opened his eyes, the world made sense again. He always cried, having a heavy sentimentality, something his dad always attributed to Donatello's mother, Pepper Pots.

This time was no different.

As he laid there, feeling sorry for whoever the rat was, he couldn't shake the feeling that there was something his parents were keeping from him. But, sadly, he was too good to bring it up, and put them in an awkward position.

So, he simply cried, sobbing into his tiny hand, trying to figure it all out, using logic, like Tony had taught him. Logic, and science. But logic and science couldn't solve everything, least of all things related to emotion. Tony probably would've commented that he found it ironic that the greatest scientific mind in this century (besides his own, of course) had to belong to one of the most sentimental children he knew. Not like Tony didn't care for his surrogate son, but he hadn't exactly learned parenting from the best. But then, that was why he had Pepper.

As Donnie cried, this, unfortunately, woke his mom, at least. Pepper came in and cuddled him, like she always did when he was sad, placing his shell against her chest, rocking back and forth. "Shh… It's ok, Donnie. It's alright. Shh…"

Donnie relaxed, and sniffed a little, before speaking. "Mommy?"

"Yes, Donnie?"

"Why do I keep dweaming about a wat, who always calls me his son, and why are dere other turtles wike me?"

Pepper was shocked. This was something they didn't want to have to explain. She asked him to tell her his dream, and he did.

"I am not sure exactly what it means, sweetie," Pepper said.

Not a total lie: she had no idea who the rat was, but she did know that there were four turtles, not just Donatello. But she had been assured that they were being raised by the best by her boyfriend. He hadn't told her everything, but she had heard enough to know that it had been a hard decision on her son's father, giving them up like that. She wouldn't let her son cry alone, at least. That was something she could tell him. She was his mother, so comforting came with the territory of motherhood.


	5. Dreaming of Someone II--No more Enemies?

A.N: Here is the next, and hopefully final, set-up chapter. Might not be. We'll see, won't we? Oh, before i forget...I have a shout out to DarkNightwatcher, and his/her AMAZING fic, Falling in Love With the Nightwatcher! It's a great story, and you all should read it! Anyway, I think that the guys were dropped off in 2000, so that's what's with the year at the last part. Now R,R, &...NO FLAMERS!

Raphael tossed and turned in his sleep. Partly because of the stifling heat of the summer night, and partly because of the inexplicable dream he was having.

He was sitting on some kinda couch, watching TV. There was a couple more turtles like him there, too. One with sapphire eyes, and emerald skin. Another with baby blue eyes, and lime green skin was cuddled against Raphael's chest, yawning as it continued to watch.

"Go tah sweep, Mikey. We have to wake eawy tommowah," Raph said, and the sapphire eyed turtle turned to look at Raph, concern showing on his small face as the baby blue eyed turtle instantly fell asleep against Raph's chest.

"You, too, Waph. You need sweep, too," he said, and Raph settled down into the cushions of the couch he was sitting on, too tired all of a sudden to contain the yawn that bubbled from his throat involuntarily.

"Goodnight, Weo."

"'Night, Waph. Wove you."

Then, reality set in, and Raph found himself sitting in bed, panting slightly. What was dat about? he thought.

It made no sense; he felt sure he knew these other turtles, at least in the dream he did. Outside of that… Nothing made sense.

Daddy will know, was the comfort Raphael gave himself as he went to find his dad. He was sitting at the table, messing with two vials, mixing them, then observing the results. He was always doing that, and on other days, Raph found it all so insufferably boring. His father had tried to teach his son how to help, but quickly gave up, realizing that his surrogate son had absolutely no interest in any form of science.

Raph walked tiredly over, and heaved himself up into his father's lap. Bruce Banner jumped slightly, nearly dropping the vials of weird liquid he held. "Raphie...what are you doing out of bed?" the man asked, looking down at the young turtle.

"I had a weird dweam, daddy." Came the small, slightly shaken voice. Bruce sighed and rested his chin against the top of Raphael's head as he continued.

"What was it about?" He asked, eyes never leaving the tabletop.

"Dere were othah turtles, and we were watchin' TV. I called one of dem Weo, and deh othah one Mikey, an'..." a pause, fast on the heels of a yawn. "Weo called me by my name, and I tol' Mikey ta go ta sweep..." This time, Raphael had fallen asleep, leaning against his father's chest.

Bruce smiled, and put the vials down. He gently carried his son back to bed, tucking him in expertly. He returned to the table, but then thought better of it, going and brushing his teeth. That done, he went to bed, glad that Raphael hadn't asked any more questions. He had yet to tell Raph about the move to Virginia.

Mikey ran through halls he had never been in before. The halls were totally black, so the harsh darkness caused him to grope around as he ran from a monster. It reminded him of a rat, but larger, more vicious looking from the glimpses he saw. He didn't notice that the rat was sad. He only thought that the rat wanted to eat him, in his childish way of thinking. Clint had let him watch far too many horror movies for his own good.

"Wait, please. Come back!" The rat cried, voice strong, commanding, frightening the child. Unfortunately, Mikey was too scared to notice the pleading undertone to the commanding words, the hurt when they weren't acted on.

Then, a rope wrapped around Mikey's ankles from out of nowhere, and Mikey crashed to the ground, his head hitting the stone as the rat finally had him.

Mikey sat bolt upright, screaming loudly, and shaking violently. Natasha Romanov, his mother, came running in, tank top straps down on her shoulders. She instantly sat down on the edge of the bed, and Mikey threw himself into her arms. He was crying, sobbing loud enough to wake the entire base, but Natasha didn't care. Her son was crying, and she would give anything to get his smile back. But the only thing to do was let him cry into her chest, so she let him.

"It-it was gonna eat me!" the severely frightened child cried, clutching his mother's arms like his life depended on it. She rubbed his shell, whispering comforting words to him, and just waited for her boy to explain clearer.

"T-the wat wanted to eat me!" Mikey screamed. "I was wunning, and wunning but he got me, telling me to come back, but I didn't want to. Then, I twipped cus a rope tied me up," Mikey finished, his voice slowly lowering, head still buried in his mother's shoulder.

Natasha rested her head on top of her son's. "Shhh, Mikey. It was only a dream. No talking rat is going to get you, I promise. It won't hurt you. It was just a dream, son," she said, as Mikey had finally stopped the waterworks.

He lifted his tiny head, and looked at his mom with pleading eyes. "Promise?" he asked, voice sounding desperate, terrified.

Natasha smiled, arms wrapping around Mikey's waist, rocking back and forth gently. "I promise, honey. Now, let's get some sleep, okay?" She said, lying down next to her son in the bed, ignoring the fact that the small size was gonna make her sore in the morning, arms still wrapped around Mikey.

Within minutes, he was asleep, too tired from screaming and crying to do anything else. Natasha gulped, waiting for Mikey to pester his mother for more information on the rat, but the questions didn't come. She could be thankful for that, at least. She didn't want to have to think about having to tell her son that he wasn't hers, that she was merely raising him. She sighed then, deciding to cross that bridge when they came to it. Not yet, however. Possibly not for a long time, but it was for the best, Natasha reasoned. Clint Barton came in, and smiled at the mother and son before returning to his own bed, satisfied that his partner had everything under control once again. She always seemed to, anyway.

**Location: NYC Foot Base. Throne Room. **

**Date: 2005**

**Time: 11:30pm**

Bishop once again found himself in the Throne Room for his monthly report. It was always the same: No sign at all of Shredder's 'enemies' resurfacing whatsoever. But here he was, handing yet another nearly blank report to Karai's smug personage, and she once again walked calmly up the stairs, and handed the file to her father.

"Is this simply more of the same thing?" Shredder asked, voice haughty and impatient. Bishop straightened subconsciously, having learned the danger behind that tone of voice some time ago.

"Yes sir. Simply because there isn't any more of the Hamto clan to oppose you any more. You destroyed them all five years ago, when you had me track Yoshi down, and interrogate him for information on the turtles-"

"Which you failed to retrieve, and had your hit man silence his tongue, rather than bring him here, for further...violent questioning." Shredder interrupted, unsheathing his gauntlet blades and standing abruptly. Bishop took a step back, slightly intimidated by the large armored man on the throne.

"Yes, but you know as well as I that Yoshi would have rather given his life, then betray his 'sons'." Bishop stammered out, desperate to keep the Shredder's wrath from descending upon him. Shredder huffed in frustration: yet another good point made by his henchman. Much like five years ago, when Bishop had brought that file, reporting that Yoshi was dead. He slumped back onto the throne, almost tiredly. It had been a long day.

"You are dismissed. Leave my sight." As always, Bishop bowed slightly before leaving, relieved to have dodged yet another bullet. Then, he walked out of the room, careful not to appear too thankful to be leaving that room.

A.N: And there ya have it! Hope ya liked it! HardyGal and I really enjoy writing this story, and love hearing the reviewer's messages.


	6. Education, Training, and an Ambush!

**A.N: THIS SHOULD BE THE LAST SET-UP CHAPTER, FYI. I KNOW I'VE BEEN SAYING THAT FOR THE LAST FEW ONES, BUT THEN, THIS ONE IDEA POPPED INTO MY HEAD, ONE AFTER ANOTHER, AND YEAH...SORRY FOR THE DECEPTION. ANYWAY, PLEASE ENJOY, R,R&, AS ALWAYS...NO FLAMERS!**

**~LEOFAN221**

~ At age 8 ~

Mikey was extremely bored. His mother was trying to teach him about something concerning ancient cultures, but Mikey's attention wasn't on lessons, much as he wanted it to be. He hated having what his mom called ADD all the time, but he couldn't help it. After today's lessons, he was going out with Uncle Coulson. Mikey knew that Coulson wasn't his uncle's first name, but that was what his awesome uncle had constantly been correcting him over. So, Uncle Coulson he became, but Mikey didn't care, as long as Coulson was happy. It was just a thing of Mikey's; Making people feel better. He had worked magic on his parents so many times, when they had come home from...the jobs they had to do, working for his other uncle, Fury. He couldn't call Fury his uncle when in his presence, for some unfathomable reason, but Mikey always saw Fury as another member of his small family. There was also Aunt Maria, Uncle Fury's Second-in-Command. She was also awesome, but more strict than Uncle Coulson or his parents. She was so much fun, when they could go out for a few hours, or until Uncle Fury called her, and they had to go back...

"Mikey! Focus!" Natasha called, leaning her arms against her son's desk with a slightly irate expression that Mikey knew all too well. It was her 'I will kill you if you don't do as I say' look. Mikey hated that look on his mom's face, especially when she was giving him that look. He looked down at his hands guiltily.

"Sorry, Mom. I was just thinking about Aunt Maria and Uncle Coulson, and when we get to hang out." Mikey apologized, hoping it wasn't too late to avoid a rap over the head. Nat just smiled a little.

"That's very sweet, honey, but you need to learn this stuff, okay?" She said, as always. Mikey had been told he 'needed to learn stuff' from Kindergarden. Since then, it had been at least three hours in this classroom of sorts, trying to learn about anything his parents found important. And sometimes it was his mom teaching, and occasionally, it was Mikey's dad, Clint Barton. That was fun. Clint always found cool ways to explain things. But, sadly for Mikey's 8-year-old brain, his mother hadn't learned that method of teaching. Natasha sighed.

"Listen, honey. How about just a little bit longer in here, then we'll start a different subject in learning, okay?" She bartered, hoping that her boy would like learning to fight the way she and Barton had been taught to. Mikey perked up a little, sitting up straighter in his chair.

"What kind of new subject, Mom?" He asked excitedly. Natasha's mouth twitched in a small smirk.

"Well, you'll just have to wait and see, won't you?" She said. Mikey groaned. He slumped again slightly, and tried his hardest to pay more attention to his mom's lessons. Natasha turned back to the chalkboard, a full smile on her face. She had finally started getting somewhere with her son and his education.

Raphael hated school. He hated it with a burning passion. The only good part about it was when he got to go to the dojo, here in Richmond. It taught Cha-Shen-Ryu style martial arts. His Sensei always said he was a natural at sparing. He was only at the Green Belt level, but that didn't stop him from mopping the floor with his opponents. He preferred to fight with the foam Sai, but sometimes Sensei Aaron wanted hand-to-hand instead. Unfortunately, Sensei also was constantly telling Raphael not to be so harsh on his sparing mates. Raph didn't mean to be so violent, but something about the fight made him just...not necessarily snap, but just let the anger he felt at the way everybody treated his dad out, and it happened to be on the person assigned to him. He had a rep now. Hardly anyone volunteered to spar with him. It was mainly the more advanced students who wanted to try their luck against the odd sleeveless hoodie wearing kid with a hump on his back. It was what he wore when they were arriving or leaving. Long-sleeve thin shirt, jeans, and that sleeveless hoodie of his. When Raphael was in his Gi, either no one notices his green skin, or they just don't give a rip about it. The older kids had been tough, but nothing Raph couldn't handle.

Today was no exception.

He was facing a Brown Belt, and loving every second of it. The girl swung padded tonfa with grace, and her blows were forceful. He ducked a head wing, and caught her weapons in the prongs of his own. He then disarmed her, slammed his hilt into her abdomen, and the match was complete. It had taken about four minutes, but both students were panting heavily. They bowed to each other, and returned to the practice mat, the young woman clutching her stomach area, and watched match after match until the lesson was over. Then, he left the Dojo, and started home. Unaware that he was being followed.

Leo secretly loved learning, although his eight-year-old personality meant he outwardly appeared to hate it. He would grumble when his father came in and woke him up, because he had been up late studying that day's lesson. He simply knew that he should, so he followed his gut. He felt like he should be responsible for his education as much as his father was. Then, he would brush his teeth, eat whatever his dad had made that particular morning, study hard 'till lunch and then, spar with Steve for a few hours. That sparing was the best part of the day for Leonardo. Steve Rogers taught his surrogate son everything he knew about fighting, then spared with Leo to make sure he understood. It wasn't an official style he was taught. It was simply what worked. Leo mainly used his fists, but upon occasion, he would use twin tonfa with slightly longer 'blades' than normal. Steve couldn't be more proud. He only had to wake his son up every other day, and even then, he never had to tell Leo what to do now. Leo understood the routine, and never complained about it, unless it seemed really unfair to Leo. Yet, even then, he would only politely suggest that they do it a different way. But today was a special day; his 8th birthday. That meant no lesson, only light sparing, then the father and son would go and walk around the city, eventually ending up in Cony Island. They would spend hours there, and it was a blast for both.

Again, today was no exception.

They stopped at a hotdog seller, bought a full lunch for each of them, and they sat down at a picnic table.

"Why can't we do this more often, dad?" Leo asked between bites of steaming hotdog. Steve was fanning his, and took a bite tentatively.

"Well..." He was saved from having to answer as Phil Coulson walked calmly over. The two men had been planning on surprising Leo at Cony Island for a few months now. Leo all but dropped his hot dog as he bolted up to greet his surrogate uncle.

"Uncle Ph-" the turtle blushed slightly, and corrected himself. "Coulson!" He finished, hotdog momentarily forgotten as he hugged his 'uncle's' legs happily. Coulson reached down, and rubbed Leo's head affectionately.

"Good to see you, too, Leo. Hi there, Steve." He said, trying in vain to free his legs from the turtle's surprisingly tight grip. After one more moment, Leo let go and returned to his seat. Coulson excused himself, and bought a soda and chips from the vendor Steve used for lunch. Making his way back, Coulson sat down at the table. For a good long while, the three were talking about this and that until after lunch, when the trio went off together, Leo holding both Steve and Coulson's hands as he walked in between them.

A.N: Not all of these are birthday scenes, FYI. Just Leo, because his life is pretty routine

Donatello sat in awe and wonder as his father worked. This was typically how the day went. Donnie would get his daily education from watching his father, asking questions and taking notes, then he would watch Tai-Kwan-Do lessons from JARVIS's archives, to make sure he could defend himself, should the need arise. The video Sensei was strict, but funny at the same time. Donnie hadn't stopped pestering Tony until he got a staff, like the one in the virtual dojo. After a few months, Tony had conceded, with a little help from Pepper. Donnie's mother could convince Tony to do practically anything. Today, Tony was working on a new model of the Iron Man armor, which always caught the young turtle's undivided attention.

"Hey, dad?" Donnie asked.

"Yeah?" Tony replied, voice muffled as he was behind machinery, and had his head in a box of parts.

"Can I take a ride in your armor sometime?" Donnie asked, unable to hold the question in any longer. Tony wondered how long he could pretend not to have heard his surrogate son's question. Obviously, the armor was far too large for Donatello, but the little guy was so enthusiastic, Tony almost couldn't say 'no' to him.

Almost.

The only occasions when that word was said was in times like this. It would be impossible for Donnie to pilot the suit. He simply wasn't big enough yet. Tony came out from behind the machines, and joined his boy at the counter of the 'R&D lab' of sorts.

"Ah, well...this armor is just too big for you right now, buddy" He said, looking at his now distraught son with almost sad eyes. "but...I CAN let you come with me. I could possibly build you your own armor, or just help you with it..." However he was going to finish that sentence was drowned out by Donnie's cheers. Donnie was elated; he would be able to at least build his own armor, with his dad's help, obviously.

"Thanks dad!" Donnie cried once again, nearly choking his father in the death-grip hug Donnie had encased Tony in.

"Hey, man, too...tight. Can't...Breath!" Tony rasped out. Donnie instantly let go, and looked pretty embarrassed.

"Oh, sorry dad. Got a little excited, I guess." He mumbled, and then Tony wrapped his arms around Donatello.

"It's fine, buddy. Just please don't do that again." Tony said, rubbing his throat. Then, the pair got to work, this time, together. The next day, Donnie was drawing his own suit, knowing that he wouldn't be working on it for-probably-a good long while.

A.N: I just realized that I have not introduced two very specific characters. So that's what these two extra scenes are about. Hey, it's either that or have another chapter.

(This takes place around three days after the Mikey scene above, For Your Information.)

Agent April O'Neill woke up early, like, five o'clock kinda early, as usual and headed toward the training room. She was in a simple exercise tank top and shorts, never expecting that there would be somebody in the training room besides herself.

A very unusual somebody, at that.

Michelangelo was up this morning earlier than he had ever been in practically his entire life. He went straight to the training room, trying to practice a set of new moves that his parents had shown him the day before. But, unfortunately, he simply couldn't get it, and he needed to, in order to advance in his lessons, something he wanted almost desperately. Then, he heard someone coming down the hallway that led to the room. Thinking that it was merely one of his parents, coming to check on him, he kept practicing. Suddenly, he whirled as part of the move, and found himself staring at a pretty redheaded agent.

And it wasn't Natasha Romanov.

April nearly screamed. She saw, preforming some kata, a half-human, half-turtle child. He wore a dark grey exercise shirt, and jean shorts, as well as an orange bandana/mask thingy. He stood there, kata now forgotten, staring at her. After a few more seconds of slack-jawed staring at each other, the turtle straightened.

"H-hi there." He stammered insecurely.

"Huh-Whuh-Fhuh?!" April managed to stammer out as well. Mikey then got his voice working enough to chuckle nervously.

"Hi." he said again, voice a bit more confident as he went on. "I'm Mikey. I'm also something my parents call a 'mutant turtle'." He said so quickly, April almost hadn't understood. In fact, as soon as his mouth had opened, she had sort of gone into shock. He...was...talking...to...her! She then smiled a little, not wanting to upset the little kid. Also, she crouched to his level.

"So...wha'cha doin'?" She asked, motioning toward the room, where he had been attempting to do basic katas. He shifted from foot to foot, suddenly very nervous.

"Well...I, ah, kinda was tryin' to do these katas, but..." He sniffled a little here, shifting more than ever. "I-I just can't seem to get them right." He said, in a voice that was meant to be strong, but was cracking fairly heavily. April's heart melted right then and there. She reached out, and rubbed his arm comfortingly.

"Hey, now...it's alright. Ah..." She bit her lip, trying to think of something, ANYTHING, to put a smile on his face. That was the one thing that April was close to hating about herself; this thing about comforting other people was something that wasn't becoming of a specialist. "Here, how about you could...tell me which kata you were doing, and...I'll help you with it." She said, in a voice that clearly was being forced to sound upbeat, and it sort of did. Well, it was enough to get that awful, and uncharacteristic, frown off his face. It simply doesn't look like it belonged on his baby-ish freckled face. He instantly felt better, and most of the sadness he felt vanished. He looked up at her with happier eyes and smiled warmly at the young woman.

"Yeah! That would be great!" He chirped. The pair went into the training room, in a different state of mind than they had originally come in with. April did, indeed, help the little turtle child with his katas.

A.N: And here is the other important character that I stupidly forgot until now. Takes place later that same day as the Raph scene above.

Raphael was walking home one second, and then the other second, he was hit, hard, on the shoulder. He spun and fell to the ground, but was up in a second. He thanked his training for the millionth time as the fist powered very quickly, and very powerfully very near his face. He caught the sloppy punch quite easily in his own fist, stopping it seconds from his face.

"Hey! What is your problem?!" Raph hissed, and looked at his attacker for the first time. He was a teenage boy, dressed in a dirty Gi, and a very smug expression. It was one of the many kids he had beaten earlier that day. A Brown Belt, by the looks of it.

Anyway, back to the matter of the fist at his face.

"Nothin'. Just seein' if ya are more than jes' good in thah Dojo." The kid hissed. Then, Raph felt hands grab him from behind, pulling him back into the alley. Then, more hands, slapping him, punching him, beating him. Raph couldn't even cry out, he was in so much pain. They had gotten a few good punches in on his plastron, and thus, his abdomen. He tried to fight back, tried to stop the awful hits, but found that his arms were gripped fast by strong hands, hands that didn't want to let his go, no matter how much he struggled.

"He-ah! Ugh!" He groaned, having tried to cry out for help, to let someone else know what was happening, but another two punches-one to the gut, and one to the side-silenced him as the beating continued. Once, when the mass of bodies moved to the side a little, he caught a glimpse of a kid in raggedy cloths, and wearing a bandana on his head, one that was black and white, holding back his untidy hair. The more he looked at the boy, the more he got the feeling that this kid was homeless.

He was also being beaten, probably because he had been passing by, wrong time, wrong place.

That set off something, something deep within him. A burning need to fight, to get both of them away from here. He let an almost feral growl rip from his throat, and ripped his arms out of the grip. He started punching all and sundry, and before he knew it, there was a gentle, yet very strong grip on his shoulders. It was his father. All the kids backed up slightly. Raph looked sheepishly at the furious eyes of his father.

Eyes...that had a tint of green.

"GET...AWAY...FROM...MY...SON! NOW!" Bruce roared, dangerously close to the Hulk's voice. Raph's eyes widened. He gripped his dad's shoulders.

"Dad! It's okay! Please! Calm down! I'm fine, really! DAD!" Raph cried, almost literally, but it seemed to work. The green slowly left Bruce's eyes. Bruce straightened.

"Sorry, Raphie. I just..." It was Bruce's turn to look sheepishly at the ground. Raph sagged against his dad's strong chest, exhausted now that the adrenaline had worn off.

"I know, dad. I know." Was all Raph could say before he let his eyes close, giving in to the darkness creeping across his vision.

"Raph! No!" Bruce cried, holding his son's limp form. He looked up as the one kid who hadn't run-the one in raggedy cloths-ran up and knelt by the father and son.

"Is-is he gonna..." He trailed off. Bruce sighed when he felt a strong, steady pulse beneath his hand, which was gently squeezing his son's neck.

"He'll be fine, kid. What happened?" He asked, looking worriedly at the multiple bruises, and awkward looking joints that the two boys had. The kid's eyes visibly hardened as he brought up the memories of the beat-down he had just received.

"Some of the older kids felt jealous that Raph kept beating them up, so they decided to play dirty, and ambushed us on the way home. I was passing by at the wrong time, and got grabbed, too." He said, wiping at a bloody nose, and a torn lip. "Then, you know the rest." He finished, shifting from foot to foot, as if each was causing him pain, and he didn't want to spend more time than necessary on either of his feet. Bruce glanced between his son, and the odd young man standing there, before sighing.

"Come on, kid. Let's get you all patched up." He said, and started inside, clutching his son to his chest. The boy followed after a few seconds.

Raph was laid out on the couch, and the boy watched over him as Bruce ran and got the first-aid kit. Raph's eyes slowly fluttered, than opened.

"Hey, man. You look like Death, warmed over." Casey said, earning a chuckle from Raphael, that quickly dissolved into a coughing fit.

"Whoa. Take it easy, dude. Those Brown Belts worked us over really good. Just...lay back, okay?" Raph eyes lit in recognition, and he sat up, ignoring the hands that tried to get him back down.

"Where's my dad?" Raph asked, slumping back onto the couch, too tired still to move. Too tired, and in too much pain.

"Gettin' the first-aid kit." The boy said, still holding his arm against Raph's chest, in case he tried anything. Raph did his best to nod without hurting himself, but ended up wincing painfully when he did. Then, Raph's dad came in, and treated Raphael first. The young man didn't complain; Raph obviously needed it more than he did. Suddenly, Bruce turned to him, eyes apologetic.

"Um, sorry about this, but I'll have to take Raph's tops off. Okay?" The boy raised an eyebrow.

"Uh, that's fine, sir." He said, subconsciously taking a step nearer to the couch, curiosity shining in his eyes. Bruce tenderly inched the thin shirt off after Raph had managed to get the hoodie off. The boy gasped. Raphael had some kinda breastplate, attached to...a shell on his back!

"Dude...you're a...turtle?!" He nearly screamed out.

"I did warn you, kid." Bruce said, smirk slicing his face slightly. Then, Raph looked at the boy, as if just now noticing him.

"Hey. What's your name? Never caught it..." He trailed off into yet another coughing fit.

"Name's Casey, actually. Casey Jones." He said, probably more to Raph than the other human in the room. Bruce nodded as he continued to wrap his wounds.

"Raph has told me a little about those kids. But not enough. Who are they?" Bruce asked, eyes never leaving the task at hand. Casey sighed heavily.

"They're students at the Dojo Raph and I go to. They're Brown Belts, and they think that means they can just beat whomever they want, whenever they want, without opposition. When Raph kept beating them, time after time, I guess they wanted to settle the score. Stupid punks! Dey should be kicked outa school!" Casey growled at the end, fists clenched at his sides, shaking with bottled rage that desperately wanted to get out. But he couldn't let it out. Not yet. Then, Bruce was done tending to his son, and now turned to Casey.

"Now, let's see about those wounds, Casey." He said gently, grabbing his arm and dragging him over to the table, where he was sat and tended to with a very careful and experienced touch.

"You a doctor or somethin' Mr. Banner?"

"Not exactly." Bruce said with a chuckle. "I do know a bit about healing and medicine, but I'm not an official doctor." He further explained-again-eyes never leaving his task as he worked. Casey didn't feel hardly any pain as he was tended to. It was over quickly, and then, he was on his way, back to the alley he lived in. He had set up shop, so to speak, in an abandoned dumpster that apparently no one knew was even there. No body came to try to dump it, so Casey had moved in there. From then on, however, Casey always went home at the same time as Raph, as a sort of unofficial body guard. Raph never minded, and the two became fast friends.

A.N: AANNDD...there ya have it! Now, I am not even going to try to tell you how many more set-up chapters there will be, because every time I do, I wind up adding yet another thing I wanna post.


	7. B-days, Tell him? and a quick ending

**AND HERE IT IS! THE NEXT CHAPPIE! AGAIN, HUGE THANKS TO ANYONE WHO HAS READ AND REVIEWED THIS STORY. IT MEANS A LOT. ANYWAY, I HAVE OFFICIALLY GIVEN UP ON TRYING TO DETERMINE WHETHER OR NOT THIS IS THE FINAL SET-UP CHAPTER. **

**~LEOFAN221**

Tony Stark was working on his 'hobby'. Again. Meaning, he was updating his armor. Again. He was always making new armor, and this was the new Mark VII (7). Pepper might've had her own remarks on the different styles and amount of Iron Man armor he created, but he kept on needing to foolproof everything.  
Gosh, science was amazing.

You should just ask Donnie. He can tell you all about how 'cool' science is to him, and all that. Tony stepped back to review his work, nodding in satisfaction before diving in again.  
The new Mark VII should be able to deploy at any moment, as long as JARVIS was on the line, and align itself with some bracelets that Tony would wear on his wrists, thus safely encasing him in the armor he knew so well. It would even work if he jumped off a building…! But he didn't know that yet, so he wasn't willing to try.  
Then, his lab doors hissed open, and in came Pepper Potts. She had that look on her face, but Tony didn't notice it yet, as he was still working on his suit design.  
"Tony," Pepper said seriously, walking up to him. "Do you know what day it is?"  
"Nope," Stark replied simply. He frowned a little at his hologram, and tossed away an unwanted part of the design. "What day is it?"  
Pepper promptly swept aside the holograms so Tony could see her. Now he saw the look. "It's something important, isn't it?"  
Pepper raised an eyebrow. "It's Donnie's birthday… Tony."  
Tony snapped his fingers. "I knew it. I totally had something planned for today."  
"No, you didn't."  
"Yes, in fact, I did."  
"I don't think you did."  
"You don't know that."  
Suddenly, something exploded. Pepper jumped, but Tony went right back to his work as if nothing had happened. Their son practically fell out of a far room, coughing, smoke pouring from said room.  
"Wow! Sorry, dad! Still trying to work out the kinks!" Donnie wiped his eyes, which were watering a little. "Oh, hi mom."  
Tony turned and spread his arms. "Happy birthday, bud." Dummy robot shot a mini confetti gun.  
Donnie was in the process of taking off the lab coat he was wearing, and blinked at the confetti. Then, his eyes sparked as he remembered. "Oh, yeah! I'm fifteen!" He stood up, patting Dummy, who whined with happiness, and shot the confetti gun again.  
Pepper walked over, and enveloped Donatello in a hug. "Happy birthday, Donnie."  
Donnie returned the hug. "Thanks, mom."  
"Now, what exactly are you working on in there?" Pepper walked towards the now not smoking room.  
Donnie stiffened a little, and sent his father a frantic look that was clearly calling for help. "Nothing you'd be interested in," Tony said.  
"Nothing much, mom, really!"  
Pepper raised an eyebrow, and opened the door. Response was instantaneous. "Tony, I thought you said that you two had given up on Donnie's armor project!"  
Tony raised a finger. "I never actually said that. Besides, Donnie said he could work on it by himself now, anyway."  
"And it's not armor, mom," Donnie said in a low voice. His mother hardly ever got angry, but she could get ticked off good. "It's a droid."  
"It's three feet tall, Pepper. Just another lab assistant," Tony said carelessly from behind his holograms. "It's completely harmless."  
"And where have I heard that before?" Pepper looked Donatello's project up and down. "A lab assistant with weapons?"  
Donnie walked over and tried to replace the weapons that were coming from the three foot tall robot turtle. "It's just something I decided to try, mom." He gave Pepper the wide auburn eyes.  
Pepper sighed. "Well, just because it's your birthday, I'll let this pass," she said with a smile, stroking her son's head. Then, she had a mock stern look on her face, pointing between him and Tony. "But don't think I won't talk to you boys about this."  
Donnie smiled a little, looking sheepish, while Tony waved carelessly. "Donnie," Tony said. "Go upstairs and clean yourself up. Then we'll celebrate."  
"Ok, dad." Donnie was instantly running up the stairs out of the lab.  
Pepper walked over to Tony, and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. He responded by wrapping his arms around her waist. "For someone who complained so much about him messing with your stuff when he was little, I think you've grown to depend on him," she said teasingly.  
"He's a kid," Tony replied. "But pretty darn smart, I must say. Of course I've grown to depend on him! See, unlike my dad, I actually want to truly show care towards my son."  
Pepper knew that Tony knew that his father actually did care about him, he just didn't show it often (actually, he didn't show it at all). But Pepper also knew that Tony was still sore about the lack of attention he had been given as a kid. And his relationship with Donnie was just an attempt to make up for what Howard Stark hadn't done.  
"Well, I'm gonna go take a shower and then see if you actually have made plans for Donnie's birthday," said Pepper, kissing Tony on the cheek.  
"Speaking of plans, I've decided to take both of you to New York next week, to witness Stark Tower becoming the first self sustaining building in the world," Tony said, turning to fiddle with his Mark VII. He then turned and grasped Pepper by the shoulders. "Just think of it as his birthday present, and yours at the same time."  
Pepper smiled a little. "And I'm guessing that's making up for the fact that you have not made plans today?"  
"I keep telling you!" Tony called, as his girlfriend walked up the stairs out of the lab. "I've made plans!"  
"Of course you have!" Pepper called back, laughing. She knew her boyfriend better than that.

* * *

"Dad, are you alright?"

Steve blinked, looked at his son in surprise. "Why do you ask?"  
Leo's brow furrowed as he played with the wheels of his skateboard. Skateboarding and TV were two of Leonardo's truly real concepts of fun. Other concepts consisted of training and learning. Steve knew he was raising one rather weird kid, and not just in the mutant turtle sense.

I mean, the kid takes learning how to fight, and about everything else, as fun things to do.

"Well," Leo said slowly, shifting nervously from foot to foot. This wasn't easy for him, asking these kinda questions. He preferred to just sit back and watch as things played out. But this was something Leo NEEDED to discuss with his father, so-awkward or not-Leo had brought it up. "You've been spending a lot of nighttime at the gym lately. You kinda… Well, you kinda go to the gym when you're stressed or something."  
Steve laughed, shaking his head a little. He really had to hand it to Leo, he was observant. But he was right. As of late, Steve's memories from seventy years ago had been getting more intense, and he'd been getting less and less sleep too.  
Erskine. Hydra. Red Skull. Bucky. The team… Peggy.  
It was lucky that he actually gotten some sleep last night, though; today was his son's fifteenth birthday, and of course the day was going to be longer than last year. Every year, with every birthday, Leo had gotten more energetic, and thus the small family of father and son had spent more and more time carrying on Leo's birthday tradition.  
They were halfway to Coney Island at this point.  
"I'm fine, Leo," Steve assured, pulling the young mutant's hoodie over his eyes playfully.  
Leo shouted in protest, and lifted back up the hoodie, grinning. But then he frowned, looking thoughtful again. "You're bothered about the wars again, aren't you?" Leo shook himself slightly, as if admonishing himself for asking such a stupid question, and began talking rather fast. "I mean, you don't need to tell me anything, dad, but… Well, I can tell it's bothering you a lot."  
"Hey," said Steve, putting a hand on his surrogate son's shoulder. "It's fine. You can ask me anything right now."  
Leo smiled, placing his skateboard on the ground, keeping in pace with his father's slow walk. "What was it like?" he asked. "Being in the war, I mean."  
Steve dug his hands in his jacket pockets. "It was hard at times," he said truthfully. "But the best part was knowing that my buddies had my back…" He paused, flashing to Bucky. He'd always had his back. Steve just wished that he'd had his. "And knowing that we were doing something."  
Leo didn't speak for awhile. "It must've been cool," he said. "Being a hero."  
Steve looked at Leo, who seemed to blush a little. Steve then laughed, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. "Yes, it was very… cool," he said. "But it's just as cool being your father."  
"Well, it's just as cool having a hero for a father," said Leo. He laughed, wrestling himself out of his father's grasp. He picked back up his skateboard, and father and son continued walking.  
Steve thought about what Leo had just said. Leo did have a hero for a father, but it wasn't Steve. The former soldier had promised himself that he would tell Leo the truth, but how could he do that? Leo hadn't been having his dreams for a very long time, and as far as Leo was concerned he was Steve's son. The kid knew that he was different. He'd learned that fairly soon. But to Steve's surprise, Leo didn't address this as odd.  
Steve had raised him, trained him, cared for him, and that seemed enough for Leonardo. But that didn't make telling Leo the full truth about his past any easier.  
"We're almost there," Leo said suddenly, snapping Steve out of his thoughts.  
The former captain saw the extravagance of Coney Island just up ahead. "Do you want a race?" Steve said playfully. He might as well have said, do you want to train, and Leo probably wouldn't have minded, but Leo nodded. "Think you can beat me this time?" Steve challenged.  
Leo shrugged, but his face showed a bit of doubt.  
"Hey," said Steve. "You're confident about most else, show a bit of confidence about this. Besides… there's always, always a chance for everything." Steve knew… He should know.  
Leo nodded, clutching his skateboard to his side as he got ready.  
"Hey," Steve said again, and Leo looked at him again. "Happy birthday, Leo."  
"Thanks, dad."

* * *

Leo inwardly sighed, rushing along beside his dad. Of course, Leo was slipping just a little bit behind, but Leo couldn't have cared less.

He HAD been having nightmares, about that strange rat, more vivid than ever.

He had just gotten better at keeping that to himself, and not waking his father.

* * *

April woke up at 5:30, as usual, this time wanting to meet up with Mikey, to work on his katas before Nat got to him. Quickly, she reviewed the quick conversation she had had with her older sister.

Yep, Natasha was April O'Neill's big sister. She had just been adopted by another family, hence the different last names.

_Natasha pulled April aside, as Mikey went on trying to get the kata to a point where he could do it right. _

_"April. what are you doing?!" Natasha yell-whispered. April scowled. _

_It was never easy, seeing her sister. Ever. They had...a kinda tension between them. April could tell that Natasha was simply jealous that April had gotten this life. _

_One in which she wasn't forced to train as a warrior. As a deadly assassin, given no choice in the matter. April had done everything in her power to make sure Natasha had no reason to be jealous, but it wasn't working, it seemed. April sighed, and turned to her new acquaintance, Michelangelo.  
_

_"So...who's the cutie?" She asked in a purposefully cheerful voice. _

_"Oh. Mikey. He's my...son." Natasha said. April scoffed. _

_"So...you and Clint-" She was cut off by Natasha's hand on her mouth. It released after a few more moments. _

_"HECK. NO! I adopted him when his father was killed." Natasha growled, too low for Mikey to hear. April slumped, sudden sadness weighing her shoulders down. _

_"Oh. Sorry to hear that. At least he's got you." She commented._

_"And Clint. We like to think of it as a team up." Natasha snapped quickly, cheeks turning ever so slightly red. April's mouth moved upward in the barest hint of a smile. _

_"Sure. I bet it's one HECKUVA team up." April said, smirk never leaving her face. Natasha's fists clenched. _

_"It-IT's not what you think!" She called, but April was already heading over to Mikey's side._

_"Of COURSE it isn't!" April called over her shoulder, with obvious sarcasm. Natasha nearly screamed in extreme frustration. but was soon joining both of her family members in performing the katas. _

* * *

A.N: I know. CRAPPY ending, but I wanted to see how this would work.

Sorry, y'all.

Leofan221, over and out.

Till next time!


End file.
